


White Knight Down

by frankie_mcstein



Category: Magnum P.I. (TV 2018)
Genre: Gen, Gratuitous white knight scenes, Idiot bad guys, Palima pops up for a while, much hospital time, poor Magnum, reading to the unconscious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22602694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankie_mcstein/pseuds/frankie_mcstein
Summary: Magnum was meant to plug in the USB pen and leave. He wasn't meant to stay all day. He wasn't meant to get caught up in the take down. And he certainly wasn't meant to get stuck with a dose of the new drug these idiots were working on.
Comments: 23
Kudos: 72





	White Knight Down

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this came about because I thought it would be fun to write White Knight scenes. I was totally right.

_ The sky was black. Not the usual dark blue of the night, but solid, unrelenting black. The wind was picking up, sending leaves and trash spiraling along in its grasp. He glanced up at the moonless, cloud-covered sky, his eyes cold, jaw set. It was perfect for him. Perfect for the dark blue clothing he was wearing to blend in with the shadows. Perfect for the rubber soles he was wearing to move silently across the cobblestone streets. Perfect for him to execute his plan. _

_ He didn't bother to check his weapon; he had done that three times before setting out. He had stripped it, cleaned it, oiled it. It was fully loaded, safety on, its weight slung across his back a reassurance, like a friend's hand on his shoulder. He knew he would need it before his mission was over, and he knew he could count on it. _

_ He moved through the streets, the hours he had spent poring over the maps of the area making it easy to find his way. He hid from the roving patrols; he'd memorized their routes days before, and, while he knew he could have taken them out, he preferred to let them pass by unharmed while he hid. Fights would be noisy, bodies would need to be hidden, and both those things would take time. Time he didn't have to spare. Time his team couldn't afford for him to waste. _

_ They were being held in the town hall. They were supposed to have been on a simple assignment, a milk run. It was supposed to have been something to pass the time while he was recovering in the medical center. Instead, it had all gone to hell. His teammates, his brothers, had been captured. He didn't think he would ever forget the moment his C.O. had stood in front of him and told him they had lost all contact with his team. _

_ "I'm sorry, soldier. But we don't think we're gonna be able to get them back." _

_ That just wasn't acceptable. A few hurried phone calls later had seen supplies heading his way, his contacts easily avoiding the medical staff as they headed to his room. He hadn't bothered trying to argue with his doctor that he needed to leave; he knew they wanted him under medical supervision for at least another week. He'd simply slipped out of the window, shimmied down the drainpipe, and dropped the few feet to the ground. _

_ His leg had ached at the impact, but he had ignored it with ease. There would be time to worry about any damage later, after he had retrieved his friends. He knew they would be counting on him. Trusting that the White Knight, injuries or no, would be on his way. _

_ … _

  
  


Even Magnum, with his usual happy-go-lucky attitude, would have to admit he was feeling stressed. What should have been a simple case involving a questionable will had spiraled way out of control when one man involved had turned out to be a high-ranking member of a radical political group that wanted Hawaii to secede and preached violence above all other methods. A chance encounter that had been very carefully engineered by various means including some fancy footwork and a little computer magic had told Magnum the group was producing and selling their own illegal drugs. He and Higgins had tried to pass their information over to HPD, but an enterprising young officer, anxious to gain brownie points with his superiors, had taken it upon himself to ‘protect’ Detectives Katsumoto and Palima from the ‘amateur nuisances.’ The resulting mess had sent Higgins and T.C. to the hospital and seen the officer suspended after unleashing the wrath of Katsumoto.

A quick debriefing later and Magnum, now in possession of the fact that the group’s drugs were killing addicts at an alarming rate, had been asked if he would mind awfully going in undercover.

“You already have a foothold,” an anxious looking member of the drug squad had explained, carefully avoiding meeting Katsumoto’s gaze; word had spread quickly of the detective’s explosive reaction to this man’s info being ignored and his business partner being hospitalized. “These guys think they know you. And, to be perfectly frank, we need you.”

And so, Magnum had spent nearly a full twenty-four hours playing the part of Jake Dewsbury, an up-and-coming drug dealer who was anxious to make a name for himself by helping an up-and-coming group of soon-to-be big-time players. Luckily for Magnum, he had the opportunity early on to make the point that ‘Jake’ wasn’t interested in buying into the group’s rhetoric. Unfortunately for him, that had led to the men deciding they couldn’t trust him as far as they probably would have had he shared their views. 

Originally, Magnum was supposed to make his exit as soon as he’d managed to plug a carefully programmed USB drive into a laptop. The program on it would autorun and do a lot of things that Magnum wished Higgins had been there to explain to him after the sergeant had explained it to her. Instead, thanks to the group’s rising distrust, Magnum had been forced to stay with them all day in order to sell the part and avoid arousing suspicion.

After a few hours of watching the men drinking and smoking, being told through his earbud in no uncertain terms, over and again, that he wasn’t to do anything to out himself as a P.I., he had been dragged out of the house and bundled into a waiting truck. Palima made sure to keep him informed of their efforts to track him, and Magnum wasn’t ashamed to admit that he’d taken a lot of comfort from the whispering of street names. He’d been starting to worry about the reason why the group was so insistent that ‘Jake’ stick around for so long after his job was done. Knowing heavily armed officers were only two blocks away had made him feel a lot better.

Until Katsumoto had quietly informed him that there wasn’t enough cover and that they were going to have to fall farther back. Magnum had started looking out of the window and commenting on what he could see. Playing it casual while giving a running commentary of the passing buildings wasn’t the easiest thing he had ever done, but, at the time, he had complimented himself that he pulled it off just fine. He’d even preened just a little as he played back how casual he had kept it while walking into the warehouse they had pulled up to.

And his cool had completely abandoned him when he’d laid eyes on the multiple boxes of guns and ammo that had been stockpiled.

“Woah, uh...” Magnum felt his face twist into an expression of concern rather than the casual interest. “What are you planning that you’d need all this fire power?” He was pretty sure he could actually hear the facepalming of at least one person over the comms.

“Magnum? A car just blew past us, and the driver matches the description of the leader of this gang. We just need him to walk into the warehouse, and we can move in.” Palima’s voice was quiet and calm, and Magnum had hoped to emulate that calm the next time he got to speak, when, really, he was starting to feel pre-battle tension. 

The sound of an engine had distracted the men who were glaring at him, and a few seconds later, a car had pulled in at such a speed that Magnum had been forced to jump out of the way to avoid being hit. A ripple of nasty laughter ran through the men, and Magnum had the uncomfortable feeling that they had been looking forward to seeing him get run over. Over the comm, he had heard voices and he knew his backup would be arriving in a matter of seconds. So there was no need to worry about the way the guys were all looking at him.

He’d happily stepped back when armed HPD officers had come pouring in through the double doors, and it hadn’t taken him long to find the upturned crate. Hour after hour of keeping up his guard had left him feeling exhausted. So it was with a heavy sigh he sat down, content to just watch as Katsumoto and Palima worked quietly side-by-side with the drug squad.

…

_ The day was turning stormy, heavy pendulous clouds slowly stretching themselves over the sun. The odd half-light was making it hard to focus, sending non-existent shadows flicking and jumping in the corner of his vision. He very carefully resisted the urge to shake his head in what he knew would be a futile attempt to clear the hazy specters from his sight. He couldn't shake his head, or stretch his arms, or roll his neck. Too many innocent lives were at stake. _

_ It was almost amusing to him to think of all the people he was about to save who, if he did his job properly, would never know what he had done for them. They would never know about the terrorist cell in their own backyard. They would never know about the dirty bombs that were being manufactured in the basement of this soon-to-be opened mall. They would never know about him or the single shot that was about to stop this heinous plot dead in its tracks. _

_ He was sure other people would find it overwhelming, having the safety and survival of an entire community resting on their shoulders. But it was just another day for him. He didn't think his superiors had been exaggerating when they had said that he was the only asset available that stood a chance of being successful. It wasn't egotistical or self-congratulatory, just an acceptance of a fact. _

_ He let his eyes lift from the scope of the rifle, the same scope he had spent over a quarter of an hour recalibrating. He had gone to an old quarry, picked his target, and made sure every single shot was perfect before packing the rifle up again. It was an audacious plan with no margin for error. He scanned the horizon, looking for the small cloud of dust that would tell him the convoy was on its way. _

_ There was no hard and fast timetable, he knew. All he could do was wait until his target was within range. And take the shot. _

...

A ruckus behind him stirred his curiosity, but Magnum was so tired it took longer than it normally would have for him to turn his head. He had just enough time to register the syringe that was level with his eyes before an arm wrapped around his neck and he was yanked to his feet. 

Katsumoto spun, quickly taking aim at the man holding Magnum, using him as a human shield. Magnum's first instinct was to simply flip the idiot who was currently jabbing at his neck with a needle, but there was something in Katsumoto’s face, some flicker of genuine fear. Magnum stared for a split second, then slowly moved his hand back from the elbow that was pressing into the side of his neck.

“Michael,” Katsumoto said slowly, his hard eyes belaying the softness of his tone. “You don’t want to hurt him.” Off to the left, Palima was taking small, slow steps, looking for a better line of sight, and Katsumoto kept talking. “Don’t make things worse than they already are. Just let him go and drop the syringe.”

Magnum couldn’t see Palima anymore and hoped that he was close to getting a clear shot on Michael. In his ear, he could still hear the voices of the HPD team, could hear the way they were becoming increasingly tense. He wanted to say something, make some sort of gentle wisecrack, but he couldn’t figure out how to make the situation sound better. Magnum had come to the same assumption Katsumoto had; the needle that was currently so close to drawing blood was loaded with that same deadly junk that had been killing drug users throughout the chain of Hawaiian islands.

“He’s right you know,” he forced out, surprised at how steady his voice sounded. “Killing me is going to cause you so much trouble that you really don’t need right now.”

“Magnum, you are not helping,” Katsumoto ground out, shifting his stance as Magnum was dragged to the side. 

Michael was taking large steps, apparently trying to figure out how to get away from the police, despite the fact that he was totally surrounded by officers. Magnum could feel muscles bunching as Michael whipped his head around, trying to keep five different people in view at the same time. The annoying thing was, if the needle wasn't actually scratching him, Magnum knew he could take this guy and do it easily.

Almost as if he knew what Magnum was thinking, Michael gave a vicious tug. Magnum stumbled at the sudden movement and felt a small sting in the side of his neck. He gasped, realized instantly the needle had broken through the skin, and felt a coldness spreading from his neck and quickly rushing over his entire body. Then the pressure on his neck was gone and, without it, supporting his weight became impossible.

He thought he could hear the echo of a gunshot ringing in his ears. But he also thought he could hear water somewhere, and he knew that wasn't right. He dropped to the floor, trying to work out what was happening. His vision was swimming and his ears didn’t seem to be working properly. He thought he could see Palima and tried to reach out for him, but his arms didn’t seem to be working. Something was telling him that people used drugs because it made them feel good, but this wasn’t good. This was scary, and he was pretty sure he was on the verge of panicking, struggling to draw a breath.

When he spotted the darkness hovering around the edges of his vision, he welcomed it. From somewhere far away, he could hear a voice. It was raised, shouting words he could barely hear and couldn’t distinguish. It sounded urgent, and he wondered if maybe he should check what was going on. But his chest was hurting, and his entire body was so cold that sleeping seemed like the better option.

…

_ The chill of the ocean didn't bother him; he embraced the cold. He moved easily through the waves, his years of training and experience serving him well. There was no strain on his muscles, no hitch in his breathing, nothing to tell an observer that he had been swimming for nearly an hour. The boat that had brought him in hadn't been able to get any closer to the shore for fear of reprisals, surface-to-surface missiles from mobile launchers. They were called 'ship killers' for a reason; the small fishing vessel wouldn't have stood a chance. So he had taken a reading on his compass, dropped smoothly overboard, and been heading due west ever since. _

_ It was tempting to rush, to push himself to go faster, especially as he knew perfectly well he could easily handle the increased physical exertion. But there was plenty of time- he would be climbing out of the surf long before dawn touched the sky- and he would need to be able to move quickly once he reached the outpost. He needed to save plenty of his energy for the fight that was undoubtedly waiting for him. _

_ Their intel, shared by a friendly British asset, strongly suggested the cartel had put the entire compound on lockdown. The higher ups were convinced there was a leak, that the plan had been compromised. But he had argued that they needed to move now, that he, with his team on standby and ready to provide backup, could handle anything the cartel might throw at him. _

_ The brass had been reluctant, but they all knew how vital it was that this group get taken down. They had been flooding the area with bad drugs and good weapons, and both were putting American operations in the area at risk. And now they had branched out into slavery, kidnapping children from the smaller villages.  _

_ He was worried about what he might find in the cellars of the outpost, images of small, broken bodies threatening to swamp him. But he refused to let them run roughshod over his composure. He was too good at his job, too experienced, too well-trained, to let his imagination run away with him like that. _

_ He could see flickers of light in the distance, dead ahead of him, and grinned. The only lights in the area would be from the old fortress style building the cartel had taken over. He was nearly there. _

...

“At least it wasn’t that deadly crap they’d been peddling.” Rick didn’t sound even half as enthusiastic as he’d hoped to, but the others still gave him a grateful look.

Higgins and T.C. both still looked awful, bruised and shaken. No one had missed the fact that Higgins was still wearing her hospital wristband, but she refused to tell them if she had actually been discharged or signed herself out against medical advice, avoiding the subject when they tried to ask. Which, they supposed, talking with their facial expressions, was an answer in itself.

Magnum had been unconscious for over a day now and on a ventilator for more than half of that time. All the doctors had been able to tell them was that the drug he had been injected with was some sort of designer formula that no one seemed to have seen before. They were using phrases like ‘cautiously optimistic’ and one forgettable idiot, when asked when Magnum might wake up, had actually told them ‘the body knows best.’ Higgins had stepped in at that, throwing around her British accent and using Robin's name with impunity, arguing with people over the phone, to ensure that particular doctor would never be allowed near Magnum again for as long as he was a patient. No one was willing to talk about how long that might be.

They had all taken it in turn to sit with him at first, his doctor refusing to let them all in his room at the same time. They hadn't minded too much, each thinking he would wake up soon. After the breathing tube had to be put in, T.C. had simply refused to leave and Rick and Higgins had taken their cues from him. A quick flash of Katsumoto's police credentials had helped soothe the ruffled feathers, and now everyone was just waiting for something to change.

Kumu had been forced to leave, an attempted break-in at the cultural center demanding her attention. And Katsumoto had gone back to HPD to keep working the case, to make sure Michael spent as long as possible behind bars. A small pile of books had appeared at some point, the entire White Knight series. Rick and T.C. were taking it in turns to read to Magnum; Higgins throat was still too bruised and sore for her to talk for long periods of time.

T.C. was reaching the climax of a scene- the White Knight was approaching the gates of a heavily guarded cartel holdout- when a beep from a machine that had previously been quiet drew everyone’s attention. Another beep brought a nurse rushing in, and everyone quickly shifted themselves to the edge of the room, not wanting to be in the way but unwilling to leave in case they weren’t allowed back in. They watched in tense silence as the nurse pressed buttons on the beeping machine. Higgins was just about to ask what was happening when every machine suddenly started beeping and wailing.

Three more nurses came rushing in, and the first spun and yanked the pillow out from under Magnum’s head. They started calling orders across the bed as Magnum’s entire body tensed and jerked. Someone yanked the curtains around his bed, and someone else started herding the scared trio out into the corridor. The door to Magnum’s room was slammed shut, and they were left standing in silence, shocked at the severity and suddenness of the seizure.

“Does that mean he's getting worse?” Higgins' voice was so shaky the words were almost lost in the background noise of the busy hospital. No one had an answer to give her, and she gave a small, helpless huff before turning her head away, hoping to hide the tears building in her eyes.

They stood like that, a tableau of pain and loss, until the door opened. It felt like hours had passed. The doctor looked angry, and everyone present suddenly felt too scared to ask for an update.

“We’ll have to run some tests to be sure, but it looks like whatever he was given wasn't being flushed out of his system like we had hoped,” he stated, looking at them all with something close to real sympathy. “There are a few things we can try. What we're hoping now is, that once we get some of the chemicals clear, his body will be able to heal.” He went on to say something about arresting the monster responsible for the drug his patient had been given, but no one was paying much attention. If Magnum could heal, then he would wake up. All five of them were repeating that to themselves like a mantra.

Magnum could still wake up. Magnum could still wake up. Magnum could still wake up.

…

_ Darkness didn't bother him. Even as a child, he had never been scared of the dark. While his peers were hugging stuffed toys and staring at nightlights and pleading for the landing light to be left on, he had been going straight to bed. He had requested the nightlight his grandmother had bought him be removed from his room so he could sleep better. _

_ So, when he woke up and found he couldn't see even the smallest hint of light, he wasn't too concerned. It would make finding the exit marginally more difficult than would otherwise be the case, but that was about it. Of course, he would need to get out of the restraints first.  _

_ He gave an experimental tug, feeling the plastic ties stretch slightly under the force of his muscles. But they didn't give enough for him to get his hands free. That was okay though, his arms were more than strong enough to withstand the strain needed to repeatedly stretch the ties until the slack was enough that he could slide one hand free. It wouldn't take all that long; he had slim hands. If he put his mind to it, he reckoned he'd be free before he missed his next check-in. _

_ Sure enough, after just a few minutes of rhythmic straining, he felt the plastic pinning his left wrist slip down a little when he pulled. His wrists were starting to burn, the skin having torn beneath the thin edges of the zipties. That was all right too; he could use the blood as lubrication, make it even easier for his wrist to come free. _

_ He gritted his teeth and pulled hard; even his muscles, used as they were to hard, exhausting workouts, were burning from the constant exertion. But he was nearly free. He took a second, just one second, to pull in a deep breath and set his jaw. Then he tugged his hand upward again, squeezing his eyes closed as he strained.  _

_ And his hand came free.  _

_ And he leaped to his feet, a rush of adrenaline lending him energy that he knew he could channel and control. Now he just needed to get to the door and get to his team. They were here with him somewhere, he knew it. And he wouldn't even consider leaving them in the dark. He knew his handler needed the information they had gathered, but his team, his friends, came first. Always had. Always would.  _

_ The colonel would just have to accept that. _

...

It had been four days since Magnum had suffered a seizure. Thankfully he hadn't had another, but he was still unconscious. Blood tests had confirmed that his body wasn't able to flush the drugs out on its own, and his doctor had ordered a series of IVs be administered to help Magnum's kidneys filter his blood stream. He was happy with the latest test results, but Magnum's friends wouldn't be happy until he was awake. Especially after T.C. had overheard two of the nurses talking about the possibility of brain damage. As the days passed, the three of them were becoming increasingly tired and likely to snap at each other, but it didn't occur to any of them to leave for longer than it took to grab food or coffee.

Rick was the only one in the room with Magnum when he started to stir. At first, Rick didn't even realize that Magnum's fingers were shifting restlessly. But then the heart rate monitor picked up slightly, and Rick let the book he'd been reading from slip from his fingers as he leaped to his feet.

“Tommy? Are you awake?” He pressed down on the call button frantically and kept on talking. “You really need to wake up, man. It's been ages! Everyone's really worried.”

As a nurse hurried in, taking in what was happening in a glance, Magnum's head started moving as if he was trying to figure out where Rick was without actually opening his eyes.

“Mr. Magnum? I need you to open your eyes.” The nurse's voice was soft and calm, but there was a note of authority there that expected to be obeyed and, as Rick fumbled for his phone and held down the speed dial button for T.C.'s cell, Magnum's eyes fluttered.

By the time T.C. and Higgins had made it back to his room, Magnum was unconscious again, and Rick had been kicked out into the hallway. All he'd said on the phone was "you need to come back." The pair noticed immediately that he wasn't smiling and braced themselves for bad news.

"It looked like he was waking up. But then his blood pressure spiked." Rick's mouth twisted, showing how upset he was by this turn of events. "They aren't sure if it was just the stress of waking up or if there's something wrong."

"How much more can he take?" Higgins obviously wasn't asking either of them, but they stared at her helplessly all the same. 

T.C. reached out and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, tugging her the two steps it took to close the gap between them. After nearly a week of putting on brave faces, they were all feeling the strain. 

"He's gonna come back to us." T.C. nodded as he spoke, as if the possibility of Magnum dying simply didn't exist. "After everything he's been through, everything he's survived this far, he gonna come back to us."

…

_ Wind was whispering through the trees, shaking the dying leaves as they clung to the spindly branches. He took a deep breath as he surveyed the area from his perch high above the forest floor. The sky was cloudy, the wind was steady and gentle, and the terrain beneath the cliff he was standing on was flat. Perfect conditions, perfect location. _

_ He spread his arms, checking the fit of the suit, and had a brief moment of panic that the sleeves would split as they strained over his rippling muscles. _

"Rippling muscles?"

He'd been enjoying the voice until that point. It was quite pleasant to listen to, and the story was his favorite. But now he wasn't too sure he liked it at all.

"Rippling. Muscles." There was a long pause. 

He could practically  _ hear _ the eyeroll before the voice came back.

"Clearly Mr. Masters has confused your physique with that of your friends."

Oh now that just wasn't fair! He really should say something. Except… well, the voice was back to sounding nice again.

_ The wingsuit worked perfectly, as he'd known it would. For all that his contact had been half-panicked, throwing around phrases like 'complicated to maneuver,' and 'lack of experience,' he had never had a moment's doubt. He held his arms outstretched, his legs wide, and let the suit carry him along on the air, the most majestic of all birds of prey. For he… _

"Oh this drivel really is intolerable!" 

Again with the disruptions? He wanted to groan. She was just getting to the good part! The White Knight was about to single-handedly take down…

Something was on his shoulder. He could feel it. And he was suddenly aware of how little he had felt before. It had been a while. He thought… he was sure it had been a while. 

"Thomas?" The voice sounded almost cautious, like the speaker was afraid of him.

He felt his lips tick up a little at the thought.

_ 'The day Higgy is ever afraid of you…' _ His mind stumbled to a halt. Fear and Higgins went together about as well as bananas and jellied eels. Something was up. Something big. But what? Why would she be calling his name in that tone?

"Please, Thomas. Please just try."

Genuine, gut-churning fear. Was she afraid  _ for _ him? What was going on? He tried to remember. His memory tried to fight him. Insisted he didn't really want to know. But, whatever it was, it had scared Higgy. 

And it all came flooding back, hitting him like a blow to the chest. His eyes flew open as he tried to sit up, struggling against the pressure on his shoulders, fighting to get away from the man with the needle…

"That's enough, Magnum! It's just me! Stop!" 

He heard the words, but he couldn't seem to process them. His eyes couldn't focus on the face in front of him, Michael's face swimming through his mind instead. He was swinging before he had time to think, felt the punch connect, a shock of pain tearing through his hand as the quiet "oof" rang in his ears. 

Every muscle froze. His entire body locked up, tense and horrified. His eyes decided now was the time to work properly, and Higgins face came into focus, the wince she couldn't hide marring her features.

"Hig…" He coughed violently as the single word pulled at his throat. Gentle hands eased him back against the pillows, helped him shift onto his side as he tucked his shoulders against the tugging of his chest, rubbed his back.

"Take it easy," Higgins whispered, her voice soothing. "You've been through a lot." Her hand left his back and he wanted to complain, but then it reappeared with an ice chip balancing on a small scoop. 

He took it gratefully, just as a click made Higgins look around.

"He just woke up. He panicked for just a second but calmed down almost right away."

Magnum was pretty sure that, if she was talking to him, Higgins would have had something to say about the fact that he had hit her. And there was the fact she kept referring to him using the third person. He was never going to earn an English degree, but he was pretty sure even the British didn't take being prim and proper that far.

Whatever was going on, it sounded like Higgins had things covered. Maybe he'd be able to get some more sleep? And, if he was really lucky, when he woke up, he might find someone willing to finish the story for him. It really was his favorite.

**Author's Note:**

> Rippling muscles will never fail to make me laugh after this.


End file.
